


May I Love You Like Starlight

by Grovey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Redemption, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-13 16:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grovey/pseuds/Grovey
Summary: When Jesse joined the Recall, he was still a little bitter. About the fall, about his past, about the man who killed his best friend.When a change of plan leads him face-to-face with Hanzo Shimada, he's only left more confused about who's worth forgiving.





	1. Like the Void

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably going to tinker with the summary and such a bit, but anyway! What's up!!! New fic! First chap is 4.2k words.
> 
> I've been planning this one for a while now and I'm really excited. First of all, this is pretty much set in canon Overwatch verse, a bit into the future where more people have joined the Recall already. It's also sort of a loose sequel to my first Overwatch fic (and Genyatta fic) Mind, Body, and Soul. You don't have to read it at all to get this one, but I think if you enjoy both ships then it might be a bonus as I plan to continue using some of the same backstories I've established there for the Shimada brothers and Zenyatta.
> 
> On the Genyatta note, it's a side-ship in this fic, but not at all background—it's got real plot relevance. Just a warning if you're not into it. But if you are, then yeehaw it's gonna be super cute stuff :3
> 
> So what to expect? Mchanzo. Slow burn, my favorite. But non-romantic relationships are going to be prominent in this fic too, maybe just as so: Friendships like those between Genji and Jesse, and the mending brotherly bond between the Shimadas, just to start. Hopefully I can figure out an update schedule, but no guarantees since I'm in thesis year... I'm determined to push this story though!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading all of this, and enjoy :b

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse waits for the arrival of the man he only knows by his greatest crime.
> 
> But he supposes he could give him a chance.
> 
> Only because his best friend said so.

_When did it come to this?_

 

_Watching his hair fly out to the wind, existing together on this plane, thinking that he is beautiful?_

 

_Was this fate from the very first time he met him?_

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

There’s the roar of the helicopter descending upon Gibraltar base, the summer sun flaring off its blades. Harsh light and shadow and pure noise. It whips up the air around Jesse and sends his serape fluttering wild like a flag, clearing the immediate space around him.

 

He feels alone for just these moments. He takes deep breaths before meeting a murderer.

 

True, he’s met many. He knows one like the back of his hand. But this one is almost as personal.

 

There’s a warning tutted to him through the noise and he steps back within the safety lines. He remembers the rest of the welcoming party around him. Lena rocking her weight between her legs planted on the lines of tape on the floor. Fareeha a little further back with Winston. Some more agents he isn’t quite familiar with. As for the old bosses- Morrison, Ana Amari... Reyes. Gone, gone. Gone.

 

Blackwatch always had a small population relative to the rest of the whole operation, and there was barely anyone who answered the Recall. People like him now playing by the usual rules and relative bureaucracy of main Overwatch.

 

Genji was among those who had returned. Thankfully.

 

 _Thank goodness_ his best friend was around.

 

But as much as Jesse loves him, it’s _bullshit_ that he didn’t give him a lot of time to prepare for this one.

 

Jesse tries not to blame him. Ok, so Genji had been called off to a mission in Canada together with Zenyatta. Very short notice. Something about advanced omnic theory, something about the stuff that the Shambali sometimes volunteered to teach at the premiere university in Nepal, stuff only they’d understand and a decision they have to help make mixed with a possible connection to Talon. Big stuff, fair enough.

 

Jesse isn’t worried about the pair of them, they’re excellent at what they do. He’s more worried about greeting this _other_ Shimada when all he can muster in the pit of his stomach is a faint disgust. Confusion, perhaps.

 

Why would Genji welcome the man who killed him to Overwatch?

 

Does Genji expect his friends to just accept him with open arms?

 

He doesn’t have much more time to ponder until he’ll meet him. Even give him a short tour of the base. Jesse had asked Genji, “ _How should I talk to him? Why me?”_ , and Genji did answer back then: “I don’t know,” “we haven’t gotten to talk much either,” “just be polite.”

 

As for the second question, “You’re my friend. You understand my shitty history a little better than most. And a lot of my shitty history is also my brother’s shitty history, so I just thought… Yeah. You seemed like the best choice. I’m really sorry, I’d rather be there myself, but…”

 

Genji trusted him, and he’s telling him this man’s worth trusting as well. He doesn’t really think so, but oh, well. Here they come.

 

He can faintly hear the bustle of everyone getting up from on board, and steps aside to make a clear path as the ramp goes down. _How hard can this be?_ It’s just another Shimada. He just has to be neutral and polite. Easier than pretending to be a waiter all smiles when he’s in a place full of rude customers, as some missions have gone.

 

Lena’s apparently the one with the stuffy ex-Vishkar, and sweet as Lena is, Jesse wouldn't be surprised if they didn't jive. So maybe it’d be alright if he takes a little while to connect with his own assigned recruit.

 

Sure enough, a woman dressed in elegant blue appears from the door, and carefully makes her way down the ramp to be swiftly greeted by Lena extending her hand. The recruit’s eyes widen, that bright yellow reflecting off her cool blue visor, and Jesse sees a moment's analysis in her eyes before she takes Lena’s hand.

 

“Lena Oxton, you might also know me as Tracer, I'll be showing you around! “

“Vaswani. Satya Vaswani… “ She fixes her visor, pouts.

 

Jesse holds his breath. Here comes the disdain.

 

“Ms. Oxton… So this is your chronal accelerator—” Satya leans in.

“Yep! Looks cool, right? So you've heard about it?“

“Dr. Zhou told me a little during the flight…” She raises a brow as Lena stands tall and smirks. Jesse sees the machinery glow and spin a hint more, as if Lena’s getting reading to blink. She remains to let Satya observe closely, though.

“Fascinating.“

Lena grins. “I can talk about it while I show you around, let's go!”

 

Before Jesse knows it, the two are off and chattering Engineering Stuff with little animosity at all.

 

_Shit what if he messes up this meeting and Genji gets murdered a second time, ahhhhfuck._

 

The other new recruits really aren’t a cause for concern. He knew Brigitte as a tiny kid, and he’s stunned him to see her now tower over most. She’s got a cat on her shoulder that looks the picture of comfort and safety with her palm on its back. Lúcio’s a sweet-mannered freedom fighter, definitely a good guy. Hana had stuck an earbud into Jesse once to make him listen to Lu’s album and he never really stopped. There was Angela’s younger brother, also a medic… whatever his name was. He had a striking appearance, tall and dark but with hair bleached white, but the guy was so shy he rarely ever heard him speak. And then a few others.

 

Jesse glanced about at the new recruits, at the people on base briefing them, and when he looks back at the ramp, he sees a new figure standing there.

 

Hanzo Shimada cuts sharp angles against the light. His eyes are focused, framed by dark circles and heavy brows. Genji had described him as wearing traditional garb, but instead Hanzo has a high collared jacket, dusky blue, stiff even against the strong wind of the landing bay. Only the golden ribbon keeping his hair up flowed where the rest of him was so still.

 

At either side of him was an array of heavy looking bags, while his archer’s kit was strapped to his back. Dr. Zhou pops her head out the door after a while, blinking at Hanzo’s many belongings, and scurries behind him asking to help. Hanzo shoots her a quick “no” in reply, then picks up his bags.

 

“Oh.. Sorry, sorry—”

“It's fine, thank you for offering.” Hanzo then glances at Jesse and says something only the doctor could hear. She glances at Jesse as well follows with a nod.

 

Hanzo straightens his posture, brushes that one loose lock of hair off his eyes, and walks down the ramp. Jesse gulps, takes his hat off, and pats it over his chest, too arrested by the stranger's gaze to even give notice to Mei squeaking past with a tiny “Good luck.“

 

Jesse's not sure why he's surprised when all Hanzo does is to walk towards him and to greet him with a simple bow. No extra flourishes, no deep scowls despite his face always looking to be on the border of one. Certainly not some dramatic standoff. Hanzo takes a breath. “My brother informed me there would be a cowboy. “

 

The smallest nod back. “That’s me. Name's Jesse McCree. “

 

“Mr. McCree.“ Hanzo raises a brow.

“Got it. People usually call me Jesse though. “

Hanzo simply turns, half-shakes his head. It’s a little too personal for him, perhaps. “Just McCree, then.”

 

Hanzo holds his hand out to shake. “I am Hanzo Shimada. “

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

A few more exchanged names, more hands shaken. A tiny debrief after Winston and Dr. Zhou are done updating each other on the long recruitment trip and Gibraltar base goings-on. There were going to be a few more flying in, fair enough, and everyone could settle in first and do a more formal welcome party once everyone had arrived, including those returning from the Canada mission. “Yes, that’s where Genji and Zenyatta are off at—” Winston clarifies, obviously looking over at the arms-crossed Hanzo standing beside Jesse with a million bags between them.

 

For now, Jesse had to acquaint his assigned recruit with the base. He’d have to endure a couple hours of small talk and fighting off the thought of Hanzo constantly behind him, getting ready to jump him.

 

Maybe a good first stop was to show the man his room, his new home, since that’s what he’d probably be most curious about. And more importantly, so Hanzo would drop his things off.

 

“So I’ll show you your quarters first.” Jesse finally says.

“Alright.” Hanzo yawns.

 

 _Alright_. Hanzo follows Jesse quietly. Jesse looks over his shoulder here and there to check on him, but for the most part he just looks around the halls, as if trying to construct a map of the base in his head.

 

Hanzo does inquire the rest of the time, starting with the obvious. “So Genji truly isn't around? Or his omnic friend?“

 

“Uh, _friend_ , yes. His name’s Zenyatta.” Perhaps Genji hasn’t opened up _that_ much to Hanzo. Jesse then nods, “I know, it was on short notice, I was surprised too. They were the only ones who could get there given the conditions, and they also happened to be experts on something that just became relevant to the mission. Otherwise it would’ve _absolutely_ been Genji there to meet you.”

 

Hanzo nods back, then leans into more questions. “What conditions? What kind of mission?”

 

“Well, I don’t have every detail, but I’ve heard a good deal from Fareeha, Ms. Amari, she’s sort of the co-commander around here, along with Winston—”

 

“Dr. Zhou told us on the flight, and I could figure that out on my own.”

 

“—Okay.” Jesse exhales sharply, then keeps on walking. “They were the only ones who could just zoom through a Canadian snowstorm without drawing too much attention to themselves.”

 

He hears Hanzo pause, glances back to see him with raised brows. “Ah.”

 

Jesse almost grins to the visual of his friends just breezing through the deadly terrain. “The original team was just looking for old data in some abandoned omnium up there. Then they found something bigger, possible enemies too, then the weather got fucked up. I know we’re no longer illegal, but the UN didn’t approve this particular query so… uh, we couldn’t be too conspicuous. Genji and Zen, they were up to it.”

 

Hanzo sighs, and then nods. “I see. Because their bodies are different.”

 

“Mhmm, and they work really well together.” He turns to look at Hanzo, narrowing his eyes.

 

Hanzo has the most confused yet _suspicious_ expression in reply. “What’s that supposed to mean.” And Jesse looks away just in time to cup his hand over his mouth and hide his smirk.

 

Jesse skips ahead, “ _Aaanyway_ , most quarters are on the second floor, but yours is on the first floor, at Genji’s suggestion.” Jesse didn’t know his reasoning for it, but he’s become aware of the clink of Hanzo’s armored feet against the tiled floor. Kind of like the sound of his own arm against the railings of the stairs.

 

Hanzo pries, “Did he say why? Where’s Genji’s room?”

 

“Not really. And third floor. He likes bein’ in high places.”

 

“Like a cat.”

 

“Yeah!” Same thought, or maybe just the same Genji.

 

“Hah! Yes. And still keeping some distance between us, I see.” Hanzo sneers, “Bitter.” And there he kills the smile Jesse had been keeping up.

 

It takes an extra moment for Jesse to continue, “...Err, it’s not _so_ bad, it’s right by the kitchen.”

 

Hanzo pauses as well. “I’m kidding. My legs get sore at times. Genji’s well aware.” He frowns. “Sorry.”

 

“...Right.” Jesse bites his lip, and _oh ok_ they’re at his room thank goodness. He taps at the keypad by the door to initialize the holographic screens and watches as Hanzo inspects the interface. He then submits to some fingerprint and eye scans without prompting.

 

Athena’s voice boots up as the door slides open, “Welcome, Agent Shimada.” Jesse steps aside, back to the wall so he can’t see into the room, and waits for the other to unload all his bags. _A smoke would be good right about now,_ he ponders to the sound of stuff being thrown unto the bed, various zippers zipped and Hanzo fumbling with his belongings.

 

Hanzo pokes his head out the door, cheap beers cradled in his arms. “Is there a mini-fridge?”

 

“Bottom shelf, near the television.”

 

“Thank you.” Hanzo ducks back into the room with his stash of booze. Shortly after, he steps out patting his jacket down, ready for the tour. “Athena, lock the door.”

 

There’s the click of the door, along with an additional lock sound effect. “Door locked.”

 

Hanzo’s face scrunches up at the noise. “Athena, Silent mode.”

 

“Silent Mode activated.” The minor beeps are gone as Hanzo taps in a few more personalizations, before turning off the screens. He then straightens himself up, and swivels to Jesse.

 

Jesse raises his brows. “Fast learner.”

 

Hanzo shrugs. “Where to?”

 

“Uh, right.” Jesse pushes himself off the wall and looks around, pointing as he talks. “So kitchen that way, and this way… A few more people have their rooms on this floor, but I don’t know all of them. There’s Torbjorn, you might end up in missions with him. Really short guy, big beard, can’t mistake him.”

 

“Got it.” Hanzo tucks his hands into his pockets, staring down Jesse, who is transfixed for too long by the stabbing gaze before he realizes he’s waiting for him to continue. Jesse tips his hat over his eyes, turns about-face, and heads down the hall.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

The rest of the tour goes without much incident. Jesse briefly gestures at his own room in the second floor, and then shows him upstairs where Genji’s room is. There are the nearby lounges and recreational areas, as well as showers and locker rooms. Then there were important places like meeting rooms for mission briefs and locations for emergencies—the central medbay and various exits and shortcuts. For the most part Hanzo just nods along.

 

“Hey, Lena.” Jesse walks up to her with a hand out as the two touring pairs intersect in the archives hall. Lena grins as she meets the hi-five, then hops backwards while Satya and Hanzo make small waves and hellos.

 

“We already introduced ourselves back in the helicopter.” Satya says with a twirl of her fingers, and Hanzo confirms with a nod.

 

“Got it.” Lena instead steps forward again, then shakes Hanzo’s hard a little too hard and speaks a little too fast ( _“Hello Mister Shimada name’s Lena Oxton AKA Tracer it’s uh nice to meet you I heard a lot about you from Genji uh you sound cool from the sound of it Hahaha —"_) leaving Hanzo wide-eyed and struggling for a response. ( _“Uh, hello, I’m Hanzo, thank you?”_ )

 

Once Hanzo’s had a chance to breathe, Jesse finishes by shaking with Satya, with some hesitance on her part initially, and then on Jesse’s letting go when he senses Hanzo scrutinizing him again. Jesse jerks away somewhat as he remembers the sliver of skin between his sleeve and the edge of his prosthetic where the remains of his Deadlock tattoo peer through. Thankfully Satya doesn’t seem to mind, bowing her head for a moment, “Perhaps we shall work together soon.”

 

Jesse tucks his arm back under his serape once the women make their leave, Lena with a skip to her step as usual. From the sound of their voices echoing down the hall, it seemed as if they were already at the point of talking about Lena’s lovelife.

 

Meanwhile Hanzo glances at Jesse’s arm, then looks away before he could fully catch Jesse’s gaze, back to silence, back to peering at the books in the shelves and the photos hung up. His solid frame, his heavy jacket. His tidy hair, his hands tucked into pockets.

 

Jesse’s still trying to figure him out. Hanzo’s a keen eye, for starters, always prying. But certainly not what Jesse expected in other aspects. He expected… Open animosity for starters, but while Hanzo does sometimes grate on him, for the most part he’s quiet. Pretty neutral, or even polite. He’s at least cruised along for the tour with no incident.

 

The Hanzo that Genji had described to him long ago was prideful, and hated to share the space with people who didn’t have his principles. Principles that apparently included killing his brother for honor’s sake.

 

Granted, this man he was looking at was apparently different now. Different enough that Genji thought he should be in Overwatch. Jesse had hoped to learn more, to better judge if his friend made a good choice, to just _figure him out_. Jesse’s about to speak up and tell Hanzo about the last few places —to carry on the tour and perhaps wring some more meaning from him—when Hanzo wanders in front of one of the pictures.

 

Jesse doesn’t need to go near it to recognize the group photo. Taken close to the end of it all.

 

By then Genji had transferred from Blackwatch to the main Overwatch team. Hanzo naturally fixated on the visage of his brother in a jumpsuit, bright orange and light greys, a contrast next to Jesse in Blackwatch uniform and armor.

 

Jesse then catches something else, faces probably less known to Hanzo.

 

Morrison. Tired eyes, tired smile, hair going grey. Reyes beside him, his seeming partner through every battle, frowning. There’s a face already gone from the picture entirely: Ana’s.

 

Three gone too soon, gone in mysterious circumstances, gone while Jesse wasn’t there to see them.

 

To Hanzo, the photo probably brought to him a piece of missing history, a piece of his brother he’d never seen before. It’s the first time Jesse catches Hanzo smiling, through his reflection on the picture’s glass.

 

Jesse breathes hard, and heads for the door.

 

He hates being reminded of the things he didn’t know.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Dusk’s approaching, and the tour was just about wrapped up. Jesse had saved the training zones and outdoor areas for last, knowing they’d spark the archer’s interest. Hanzo laments not bringing his bow and arrow from upon seeing the targets and bots strewn about the practice range, but it doesn’t stop him from a quick test run with Overwatch’s own kits.

 

Jesse gets his first dose of the snark he projected on Hanzo when he returns with the bow and proceeds to point out, in every aspect, how his own kit is better. Hanzo at least stops himself from criticizing both the weapon designs and ragging on a certain agent’s choice of footwear (“Hey, you wouldn’t say that in front of her.” “Hmm, you’re right, and she doesn’t deserve it. She’s nice.”)

 

The outdoor areas are largely extensions of the training areas or for other sports and recreation, and the garden is primarily for growing food rather than for decoration.There are lots of little sprinklers and systems and colorful pipes that Torbjorn had put in that amused Jesse enough whenever he'd sneak off there to drink or smoke out of Angela’s view. Hanzo lingers at the entrance, crossing his arms as he looks around.

 

Jesse pulls out a cigar and a lighter, puts it to his lips and raises a brow at the other. Just as he draws some smoke, Hanzo turns around and leaves. Jesse stops and then catches up to him.

 

“You alright? Tour’s over, so you can head back.” Jesse puffs his cigar, then puts it away again— “Ah, fuck, does the smoke bother you?”

 

Hanzo shakes his head,  “Oh, I smoke. This is just… It’s been a long day. I might go back.“ He hums in thought. “Or I was thinking I’d just wander around on my own. Meditate, you know.”

 

“Oh... uh, sure, I get that. Would've appreciated you telling me.” Jesse reaches up, tips his hat. “Guess this is bye for now.”

 

"Hmmm." Hanzo tenses up when Jesse then offers a handshake, then meets his gaze. “One more question?”

 

Jesse lowers his hand. “I’m all ears.”

 

“When’s Genji coming back here?”.

 

Jesse puts his fingers to his chin. “Mission’s projected to be another two days. So he should be back before three.”

 

Hanzo nods, “Okay. Thank you.” There’s a deep breath. “We have a lot to catch up on, still. That picture we saw, in the archives, it reminded me. I’ve still got so much to ask.”

 

“Well, you’ll get to talk in time. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can get him on chat before he’s back.” Jesse re-tips his hat, and Hanzo acknowledges the farewell with a look and his own nod before walking away. Jesse watches him disappear down the hall towards his quarters.

 

After a full day preparing for the recruits, walking around with this man—

 

Now it’s just himself, the taste of smoke rolling around his mouth, and the strangeness of the whole situation hitting Jesse in the quiet. Being apparently part of Hanzo’s ‘second chance.’ The fact that, for the most part, his experiences have been... calm.

 

Nothing like the mess that set it off a decade ago.

 

He closes his eyes, exhales the smoke.

 

Maybe he’ll get used to the idea.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

The base is pleasantly cool at nights, the seaside breeze winding its way in and down the halls. Jesse yawns and stretches out as he exits the kitchen. Maybe he’d try be kind to his body for once and settle in for the night early, especially as he had plans for the morning.

 

He walks past Hanzo’s room, the keypads now glowing dimly. Jesse finds himself stopping at the door, he’s not sure why. A few moments of listening and he’s pretty sure Hanzo's inside. _Should he check on him? Isn’t his job done for the day?_

 

Jesse does raise his hand to knock, but then he sighs and walks away, heading for the stairs.

 

So it surprises him when he hears the door slide open. Jesse stops, and when he turns around, he sees Hanzo peering out the doorway.

 

They blink at each other, dumbfounded. Hanzo seems to arrive at an idea and then raises a finger. “Wait a moment, McCree.”

 

Jesse ambles back towards the doorway, hearing Hanzo move about inside. Hanzo then returns holding up a pair of beer cans. It takes a moment for him to register that Hanzo’s actually waiting for him to take one.

 

"I could hear your spurs." Hanzo raises one of the cans. “May I offer you a beer.“

 

“Whuh—”

 

“As a thank you for the tour. Even if Genji made you do it.”

 

Ah. “...Sure.” Jesse takes one and pops it open.

 

In almost ceremonial fashion, they clink cans at the doorway and down the first gulp together—it isn’t very good. Jesse catches Hanzo’s grimace in time as he brings his head back down, so obviously he feels the same way about the taste. It _is_ ice-cold though and Jesse’s had worse beers. He wipes his mouth on his arm and then manages a smile. “Thanks. Though Angie’s told me to lay off alcohol a bit.”

 

“Ah… I wasn’t aware. This isn’t very strong, at least.” Hanzo seems to stop minding the taste after the third sip, and Jesse figures they’ll just finish their drinks together.

 

“You settling in alright?” Jesse asks.

 

“No problem. Dinner was excellent.”

 

“Oh, yeah, they like to go all out when there are fresh recruits. Hard to top Reinhardt’s pulled pork.” Jesse then raises his can, drinking the last of the beer, before sighing. “I uh, cook too sometimes. Usually just breakfast. Actually I was thinking I’d cook tomorrow.”

 

Hanzo finishes his own beer, too. He takes Jesse empty can to throw in the trash, before leaning on the doorway.

 

“I suppose I’ll look forward to it.”

 

Jesse smirks. "I'll try my best." He straightens up, then makes a step for the hall.

 

"For now, goodnight."

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

  * **[ 2: 21 AM ]**


  * Genji: Oh damn I just got out of a meeting
  * Genji: I did so much shit today
  * Genji: Sorry it’s probably like, really late over there, idk timezones
  * Hanzo: Yes it is. Where are you? What’s happening?
  * Genji: Way out in Nunavut. But we’re alright


  * Genji: We saw a guy come in but this place isn’t really guarded. We’re able to plan in a hiding place.
  * Genji: Still it’s really good me and Zeny came uhhh, we found some big info alright
  * Hanzo: Interesting. Are you allowed to tell me?
  * Genji: I guess
  * Genji: But also don’t you need to uuuuh sleep
  * Hanzo: I’m having trouble getting any
  * Hanzo: so fuck it
  * Genji: Ok sure
  * Genji: We can keep talking


  * Genji: So please tell me you havent killed Jesse or something
  * Hanzo : I kept my word. He wasn't terrible.
  * Hanzo: You weren't kidding about the cowboy getup though.



 


	2. Like Oil and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo wakes up to his new home in Overwatch base, and it's difficult to keep past things in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed another chapter somehow, Nice, still fleshing things out, still really excited to keep pumping out the story even with time constraints. Anywho this is 4.8k words somehow and I'm proud, and the rest are spoilers~
> 
> Cleaned up the last chapter a little (aka: there are em dashes now) other than that—enjoy and thanks for all the feedback, the outpouring for even just the first chapter was unexpected!
> 
>  
> 
> Notes that I can remember at the moment: Bhaktapur is in Nepal and I write it as a center of like, omnic knowledge/academia, due to relative proximity to the Shambali and Kathmandu.

Hanzo’s starting to realize his dreams are dreams when he feels the buzz of his phone jolt him from slumber.

 

He lingers, eyes still shut, his hand swatting at the sheets to find where he left his phone. Once he does, he lets the alarm continue to go off for a while, stealing a little more sleep before finally blinking in the morning light and swiping the alarm off before it has a chance to go into snooze.

 

He squints at the time, 10 AM. An exact seven hours fifteen minutes after he told Genji he’d go to sleep after their little catch-up chat. It’s also 4 hours of actual, solid sleep, instead of tossing and turning and trying in vain to catch a wink.

 

One of Hanzo’s misfortunes is that, for how the past ten years have had a tendency towards ungodly late nights, his body clock never stopped insisting his prime was back in the disciplined early sleep and early bird hours of his school age. But while lingering in bed too long in the past could have been foolish no matter how late he slept, here in Overwatch base he’s unquestionably safe. Safer than any place he’s been for the past ten, going on eleven years.

 

Maybe it’s the safest place he’s been his whole life.

 

He’d catch another hour or so of sleep if he didn’t already know his body would hate him for it, so instead he sits up and stretches, looking around the room. Even if he had already checked it out, it seemed like a new experience actually waking up to it.

 

In front of the bed is the television, dimmed by default and set to a welcome screen with basic modules such as the weather and latest news, a blank calendar, and a default background of swooping architectural photography just begging to be changed. There’s a little glowing button at the foot of the bed to activate the holographic control pad, and Hanzo confirms this with a quick click and un-click. His bags are strewn about below, themselves already a canvas for whatever patches he had collected over his travels, the only real canvas he’d had for so long.

 

Among the shelves beneath the screen, the mini-fridge had already been taken over by all manner of cheap beer cans and, at the very back, a chocolate bar or two. Hidden, just in case he decided to invite his brother over and Genji chose to rummage, questioning him why he had Valentines wrappers on them (they were on discount, and the packaging was graphic and beautiful.)

 

To his left is the door leading to the shower and his humble closet. His archery kit’s propped up against the wall. There’s another control pad at the entryway door, identical to the one outside. The rest is blank space, no doubt he could have a desk fitted in if he requested, or perhaps a few comfy chairs and a low table.

 

It was strange to think that, after months of shitty hotels and hitchhiking on the backs of trucks or breaking into vacation houses, he could fill these spaces with whatever he wanted. With aspects of himself. And at this point, he’s not sure what part of himself would ever merit being put on display.

 

The windows to his right side took up most of the whole wall, sunlight filtering through the blinds. Hanzo scoots over to that side the bed to reach over and raise one set—the view isn’t bad at all, with plenty of the ocean. What catches his eye more, though, are neon post-its stuck to the glass.

 

“Welcome to Overwatch!” “Enjoy your stay!” “Hello!” many times over, in different languages. All manner of rather generic messages, though Hanzo would concede that it’s the hospitality that counts. They’re signed by different names,  _ Winston, Mei, Commander Amari _ , he mentally fetches their faces, just to ensure he doesn’t make a fool of himself socializing later. He remembers most of them, at least ( _ Who the fuck was Angela again?) _ and he’d figure the rest eventually. 

 

Center to all the notes, however, was one in bright green. There’s a line drawing of a bowl of ramen with what seemed like a restaurant’s name on its rim, and an address below in surprisingly neat handwriting.

 

“Maybe like old times,” it also says.

 

Hanzo stares at it for a while, hands just draped over his knees, and bites back a smile. He then bows his head, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes and looking away.

 

Stranger still is the trouble people go through for him, when all they know of him is the biggest mistake he’s ever made.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

If there’s one thing Hanzo did right, it was drinking only one can of beer the night before. He brings himself to the bathroom eventually, nothing fancy but far superior to any one he’s used in the past months. And for four hours sleep and some jet-lag, the bags under his eyes don’t look that much deeper.

 

He washes up, ties his hair. He has the outgrown remains of the undercut he got on a whim, no longer so dramatic against his longer hair on top. The grey hair on his temples are back in full force, and he debates whether there are new ones growing into his ponytail. The streaks had a tendency to pop up early in the family, because of genes, because of stress, and he had plenty of that.

 

When he returns he wakes the monitor, banishing a couple of the screen widgets and then logging into Athena’s system. He’s about to enter the ramen address into search when he notices a few messages from Genji.

 

**  
** **[7:39 AM]**

  * Genji: Got out of the Omnica base a while ago, we’re now in Manitoba
  * Genji: We’re all safe, Mr. Sam has a place up here. We’re just planning what to do next.
  * Genji: But mostly we’re taking a break.



 

**[7:50 AM]**

Genji’s left some photos, most of them from an exceptionally cozy looking library of sorts. In one of them is the slightly blurry visage of a man he only recognizes for his resemblance to Ms. Amari, and then some Overwatch agents he doesn’t recognize at all.

 

Then there’s a photo of Genji himself, sunk into a plush leather couch, leaning against The Omnic- Zenyatta.

 

_ Zenyatta, Zenyatta _ .  _ Curious _ would describe how Hanzo felt about him.

 

Zenyatta had not been there the first time Hanzo met Genji once again, when they clashed in Hanamura. The second time was much more recent, when Genji called him to Nepal to discuss the possibility of recruitment to Overwatch. That’s where he met and properly introduced himself with Zenyatta, but they spent time together only briefly as the omnic had his own duties.

 

Hanzo had already looked him up online, learning how he’s a former member of the Shambali and now, apparently, some sort of wise guru who wanders the world and brings peace. Genji’s alongside him in some of the photos.

 

Perhaps it’s his instinct as an older brother. Genji’s got his mask on, and he cannot perceive any emotion from the omnic’s faceplate, and yet there is a distinct warmth he sees between the pair of them.

 

And a sense of having missed out, of being out of the loop, when once in their youth he was so keenly aware of Genji’s every relationship, even if his little brother tried to hide them.

 

Finally, there’s a sense of fear, when he remembers the exceptionally stiff handshake the omnic gave to him.

  
  


Stuck in the same Overwatch base for the time being, he supposes he’ll have to sort that issue out eventually.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

The smell of cooking wafts through the hallway the moment Hanzo steps out of the room, and it makes it very difficult for him to ignore the prospect of breakfast. Stress and eating did not always go together for Hanzo—he often found himself forgetting entirely and gorging himself much later.

 

Immediately upon walking in he sees a neatly kept kitchen area—black and white and metallic grey, plenty of counters, pans hanging from the top, multiple stoves, clean finishes. There’s one pan currently frying up a whole load of bacon, and another over a static burner and waiting for a fresh egg or two, judging from the empty but used bowl and whisk next to it.

 

There’s a wall dividing the kitchen from the rest of the dining area with walkways at either edge of the room, and Hanzo can see the others eat from his spot in the entrance. What he doesn’t catch is McCree entering from the gap at the farther end of the room.

 

McCree’s eyes widen upon seeing him, and he tips an invisible hat up with his knuckles before silently returning to the bacon, scooping some of them off the pan. “Mornin’,” he says without looking at Hanzo. “Hope you like bacon and eggs. We’ve got regular, and turkey bacon. Hash browns if you’re vegetarian. Got rice too.”

 

Hanzo’s eyes dart over to the rice cooker, and he nods. “I’d like that, and bacon and eggs. I’m not picky as long as it’s served hot.”

 

“Alright. You can join the others and I can just bring over your plate.” McCree finally looks at him over his shoulder. “How do you like your eggs?”

 

“Hmm. Can you do a French omelette?”

 

McCree chuckles, “The only thing easier than bacon and eggs is toast. I wouldn’t be offering myself to everyone if I wasn’t at least an expert at it.”

 

“Fair enough.” Hanzo watches for a little, watching him start off with a chunk of butter. Once he’s satisfied with seeing McCree’s cooking prowess (high expectations, despite the fact that he himself can’t cook well) he heads into the dining area with a mugful of decaf coffee.

 

There are a couple other groups eating breakfast, or rather, mostly talking over finished breakfast. The obvious family tables are none of his business, while it seemed pitiful to go solo. He sits himself down where he spots the highest density of newcomers who shared his flight, picking a corner of the table and leaving a comfortably empty seat between him and Vaswani. Small waves, little nods of the head to greet each other, and then he just falls to silence and lets the others speak while he sips.

 

Lúcio easily dominates the conversation (he wasn’t surprised at that, after having to sit behind him in the helicopter) along with another youth Hanzo doesn’t recognize but whose name he picks up from all the chatter and has sworn he’s heard before—one Hana Song. She has the same vibe of a celebrity, and all that youthful energy. Lúcio yammers on about how hard it had been to get to Gibraltar without people tracking his every move, without it leaking to social media. Hana grumbles about much of the same and how the fans almost pulled Dae-hyun off the helicopter ( _ Is he supposed to know who this Dae-hyun is? _ ) and Hanzo loses his train of thought until Hana reaches a hand across the table and gets him to pay her attention.

 

“Earth to Hanzo, hello!”

 

He blinks, stiffly raises a hand in hello, and the table is left waiting for him to finish chewing. He gulps, “Yes, I’m here... How do you know me?”

 

A smarmy grin from her. “Genji wouldn’t shut up about how you were coming here. And he kept on going about how long it took to convince you.”

 

“Ach.” Hanzo puts his hands together. “It did take me a while… He first brought up the possibility I’d join maybe a month or so ago.”

 

He leans into thought, “Finally answered it a few days ago, I’d smuggled that comm he gave me all the way from Bhaktapur to South India. It turned out quite convenient because they had two other pickups there.” Hanzo gestures over at Satya and Lúcio.

 

Hana puts her head on her hands, her smirk pushed up to look almost comical. “So I guess you all know each other.”

 

“A little.” Hanzo glances to the others, who affirm with looks and nods, “We chatted on the ride here. Seems I don’t know  _ you _ too so much yet.” He squints at her face. “Though I get the feeling I should. I’ve been quite out of the loop.”

 

Hana sticks her tongue out, sitting up then offering a hand- “I’m Hana Song, former Korean Army, MEKA Pilot, professional gamer, actor… err, a lot of things!”

 

Oh, he’s definitely heard of her in passing. He shakes her hand. “That’s quite a portfolio you have already. So how old are you?”

 

“Twenty.  _ Finally. _ ”

 

“You’re  _ what— _ ” 

 

McCree arrives before Hanzo could be bowled over by that thought _ — _ he’s very casually balancing a couple plates on one arm, and grips a kettle’s worth of hot chocolate on the other.

 

“You should definitely watch out for Ms. Song here, she had me listen to Lu’s album by  _ force _ .”

 

“Hey Jesse, you said you liked my stuff!”

 

“Well, yeah, don’t get me wrong, doesn’t change her cunning act.” 

 

McCree starts to set down the plates. Hanzo’s requested rice and omelette comes topped with green onions and bacon crisped round the edges. Lúcio gets some sunny-sides-up as well, McCree deftly sorting the orders ( _ “Impressive,” Satya says, “I’ve broken a lot of shit at this point,” McCree admits, grinning. _ ) Finally he places the kettle in front of a pouty Hana after pouring her a mug, though Hanzo knows it’s all in jest.

 

McCree rises back up with the final plate, his own, digging in while standing up.

 

There’s a pause filled by the clatter of plates and utensils. Hanzo takes a bite and  _ it’s really good _ , fluffy and creamy, the taste of yolk and seasonings a little stronger to go with the rice. McCree had not been kidding about his prowess, though Hanzo lets Lúcio do all the praising for him.

 

“Dude, these are the best eggs I’ve ever had.”

 

McCree tips his air-hat once more, “Thank you kindly.”

 

Hana leans forward, already sporting a cocoa-mustache, “Hey, Jesse, sit with us!”

 

There’s a split second of Hanzo glancing at the empty seat next to him, and he spots McCree’s gaze dart the same way before McCree looks back to Hana and shakes his head, “I like standing up, it’s fine.”

 

Hanzo flattens his lips and he watches the others, though it seems they did not catch McCree’s eyes the way he did. They all continue to eat.

 

McCree clears his throat. “So, hope nobody’s jetlagged? Y’all sleep good?”

 

From there on, McCree tugs a conversation along in a completely different way from Lúcio and Hana. He doesn’t share their spikes of energy, the speed in which they’d hop from topic to interrelated topic, giving the space for the rest to add their thoughts before they stopped being relevant and then steering talk back into this fascinating world of celebrity and publicness and hiding that’s equally relatable yet faraway to Hanzo.

 

Instead, McCree’s got that smooth ebb and flow, asking each new recruit about their past adventures, getting Hana to recount hers for the benefit of the others. He’s briefer talking with Hanzo, but McCree already knew enough, or as much as he wanted, (or could be bothered with.) Hanzo prefers that the conversation move unto Satya as quickly as possible, anyhow, seeing as all Hana and Lúcio seem to know about him is how he’s related to Genji, and that Genji came from a huge yakuza family but he turned out  _ good and cool and badass _ .

 

McCree would lean into understanding, giving the others his undivided attention and lazy smile, a little quip, a little advice, some genuine sense of care, and when he sets down his plate he’s ready to steal the stage and wistfully recall some fine tale or two from his old Overwatch days, “Better listen, because here’s what you can expect.”

 

He cuts a different figure than the sort Hanzo had seen last night, cloaked in that serape and extra leather layers and armor. He’s still somehow wearing spurs in the morning, but otherwise he’s got classic jeans and a white flannel shirt criss-crossed by periwinkle blue, just slightly more unbuttoned than what Hanzo himself would find appropriate. His beard is bushy, probably in need of a trim, and his hair is pressed down where he usually has his hat and flares outward from there.

 

When he’s saying more than a few words, there’s certainly more of that drawl to his voice. McCree carries these open expressions and such broad body language, further accentuated by his more heavyset figure. It’s hard not to listen to his retelling of his job as a server at a breakfast buffet, where he truly honed his egg cooking craft in some tourist trap in the mountains of Italy, which happened to be a cable car ride away from the suspected hiding place of a Talon operative, etc., etc., wherein he had struggled to keep an eye on a mark while being yelled at by a customer, the doneness of his eggs was off they said, etc., etc., “And I wanted to say, buddy, have you ever microwaved scrambled eggs? That’s what you want, microwaved eggs, their weird spongy texture and absolutely no taste,” and it’s a strange sentiment to linger on, yet seemingly natural coming from this man so well liked by the rest of the table.

 

Hanzo’s gut holds him back from falling into it entirely, but he certainly can see why the others are charmed, with even those from the other tables watching. Satya doesn’t look McCree’s way, but even then she looks content to have his cadence be the background noise of her careful sipping.

 

Hanzo narrows his eyes at Lúcio across, completely taken in, staring. Hana has to pat his cheek to snap him back to attention at some point and it almost makes Hanzo choke on his coffee, not that it seemed to detract McCree from his talk. He simply chuckles while Lúcio regains his bearings.

 

McCree then settles down, pulling a chair from the other table. He’s getting back to getting-to-know with an inquiry here and there about their old work, and the question McCree finally lands on is “So why’d you join Overwatch?”

 

At first it shifts back to Lúcio’s work and he talks about his sonic technology, and some of his past escapades using them which got Overwatch to notice him in the first place. Satya was apparently involved in some of them.

 

“Lúcio and I, well—” Satya’s explaining to McCree, her palm up and projecting some sort of Vishkar building, “—we fought quite a bit over the topic of his technology. It didn’t help that he was already trespassing into our offices. Stealing did not seem like a stretch”

 

“Yeah, I did sneak around a lot. I didn’t steal, but she couldn’t have known—she dropped me off the building with one of her portals once—”

 

“Apologies—”

 

“No, that was awesome! You fooled me. Aaaand I guess I didn’t get hurt too much.” He scratches at his crown, smirking. “And I bump people off places all the time.”

 

Satya chuckles for a moment before moving on, more fire to her eyes. “But it did lead me to investigate in my own time. And he was right, Vishkar had a lot of stolen technology from different sources—and with Korpal being connected to Talon—even through those channels.” She looks down, swirling a hard-light spoon with the movement of her fingers. “I decided then I needed to put my skills elsewhere. I was fortunate enough that I was able to contact him again. And now I’m here.”

 

She takes a deep breath, then looks to Hanzo, “You know, I’ve been wondering if Vishkar also took from the Shimada. Some say your tattoos and hard-light share a common root. Is that true?”

 

“Hmm—” Hanzo glances at the dragon snaking down his arm. There were certainly some aspects of nanotechnology that came embedded with the tattooing process, but also things he wouldn’t know how to explain. Were the effects caused in part by body chemistry and genetic compatibility, or simply emotions and—for a lack of a better term—magic? Spirituality? The Shimada tattoo was many things, a mark, a weapon, a mystery. A weapon.

 

In the past, those who wanted a tattoo would have had to ask the head of the Shimada for approval first, in addition to being part of the clan. The bulk of these approvals were made by his father and grandfather, even if urban legends liked to tug the tradition back by centuries by banking on the mystical aspect. The specifics of the technology itself? Barred to the artisan-scientists who most loyally served the clan, and passed down from heir to heir and no one else. It was something neither he nor his forebears would want anyone having without their knowledge.

 

In short, a tightly guarded family secret. Hanzo can’t help but answering Satya in the way that most amused him in his head, in the way of classic films: “I could tell you the answer to that, but then  _ I’d have to kill you _ .”

 

He chuckles, crossing his arms, and Satya nods with a smile and a “Ha hah, very well,” before carrying on with her own twisting tale of painstakingly finding proof, of realization and defection. It’s pleasant to see her grow out from her initial silence quite swiftly. Their trip on the helicopter was conservative when it came to chats, but even then he appreciated her calm nature, her excellent aesthetic taste, her thirst for knowledge. 

 

After a lull in her speaking, Hanzo catches McCree leave from the corner of his eye without notice, carrying his plate and mug back to the kitchen.

 

Hanzo bites his lip, watching him leave not even glancing back at the table. Hanzo then washes down some discomfort with increasingly lukewarm coffee and excuses himself with Satya and the table, bringing some of his own plates.

 

When he arrives back at the kitchen, McCree’s scrubbing off some of the foodstuffs from the pans. He’s not turning his way, just the same as earlier, though the sound of Hanzo’s plate makes McCree look at him eventually.

 

“You can leave them, I’ll put them in for you.”

 

“Oh. No, I was— Just coffee.”

 

A sharp exhale, “Sure, there’s still some.” He then gestures at the pot with a nod.

 

Hanzo pauses, then leaves his plates at the counter before heading for the coffee a little closer to McCree.

 

Hanzo was also curious about him. True, the interest was in part because of the tour they got stuck on together, but it was also for much of the same reasons he was curious about Zenyatta. His connection to his little brother.

 

_ An old friend _ , Genji had told him.

 

Hanzo turns the coffee heater on, leaving them to wait for it to boil.

 

A breath taken first. “So… Genji sent me some photos last night.” Hanzo starts.

 

“Huh. The ones at Mr. Amari’s place? Neat library?”

 

Hanzo nods. “It looks very nice.”

 

“Cold as shit up there, but yeah, real nice once you’ve bundled up. Crashed in there once when I got roughed up on the run. When I came to, Sam had already set me up for a tune up.” McCree waves his metal arm to indicate.

 

Hanzo looks to the prosthetic, then to his face with a nod. “So that’s the man in the photo?”

 

“Yeah, Sam Amari, the commander’s old man. Divorced Fareeha’s mom way back, bless her soul, but they’re still close. He quit Overwatch back then too. Doesn’t approve of all this, but he helps us out anyway, which is why the mission’s at his place. He keeps a lot of archives, helps us watch out for Talon. Good guy all around.” McCree stops to load up the dishwasher. Then he takes a deep breath, looks right at Hanzo, “So don’t worry, Genji’s in good hands.”

 

Hanzo gulps and nods. Not that he asked, but he felt some vague relief anyhow. “Genji looked more than alright in the other photo he sent.”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

The heater switches off with the sound of the boil still rolling, and Hanzo moves to pour himself some more coffee after a few moments. He adds a little extra creamer, a little extra sugar.

 

“...May I ask something?” Hanzo says.

 

“What about?”

 

“Zenyatta. What’s he like?”

 

“You’ve never met him?” McCree shuts the washer and quirks a brow at Hanzo, who shakes his head in turn.

 

“Only briefly. He’d been busy when we first met.”

 

“Ah.” McCree puts his hands on his sides. “Well he’s a really chill guy, whole base loves him, frolicks in sunshine for all I know. I don’t think I’ve seen him mad at anyone ever.”

 

_ Fucking hell.  _ Hanzo pinches his eyes shut. “And he and Genji are… close?”

 

McCree tilts his head at him, “Uh, what do you think?”

 

“Can I just know?” Hanzo finds himself gritting his teeth a little beneath his frown.

 

There’s deep breath from McCree, a twitch to his eye. “Huh. Yeah. Zen saved his life.” He then turns away from Hanzo, grabbing the hand towel beside the sink and drying up. “He helped him come to terms to himself.”

 

_ After what you did to him _ , he seems to punctuate with the annoyance in his tone. Hanzo bites his lip, but then pries on.

 

“So how long has he known him?”

 

“Hmmh. Three, four years? Dunno, they probably met after Overwatch split up.”

 

“I see.” Hanzo looks up, picturing the timeline in his head. “So what had Genji been doing after the fall?”

 

A swift shrug from McCree, “Travelling, I guess. We didn’t keep in touch.”

 

“You lost all contact?”

 

“I left Overwatch before the fall, he left after, I wasn’t able to contact him the whole time.”

 

Hanzo leans in closer. “I thought you asked him to join again?”

 

“ _ Genji _ was the one who convinced  _ me _ to return. He was able to contact me from this base. I had no plans to do Overwatch again. I think I ignored that recall comm longer than you did.

 

“Hmm, I see. Then how about your time together in—”

 

“—Hanzo,  _ look _ .” McCree then holds a hand up, turning to him with a glare. “That’s personal. I’m not here to be dispensing info for you at your leisure.”

 

Hanzo finds himself holding his breath as that glare lingers, but eventually McCree bows his head and sighs, “Look, I know you want answers, but just hold on tight til your brother comes back. Asking him is  _ your _ job. That’s just common sense.”

 

McCree goes to take Hanzo’s plate off the counter before Hanzo has a chance to rinse them himself, probably so he can just stare at the sink instead of him.

 

“... Sorry.” Hanzo stares at the back of his head.

 

McCree shakes his head, “It’s nothing. Let’s put it behind us.”

 

“I know you don’t have any reason to trust me.” Hanzo moves to unplug the heater, bringing him closer to McCree again, almost sparing him a look at his expression. Hanzo feels him stop and think before shutting the tap and putting the plate in the washer.

 

“That’s true. Genji hasn’t told the others what happened. But  _ I _ know, of course.” He closes the washer door, turning back to Hanzo with a stern look. “But this is  _ New _ Overwatch. Our motto is that we all go save the world, and that we turn over a new leaf so that hopefully nothing blows up again.” he breathes in very hard, exhales loudly enough that Hanzo feels the need to step back.

 

“So I’m not going to hold you against what you did to him a whole  _ ten years ago _ .” McCree reaches for the towel, drying himself roughly, flicking his hands more to gesture hard than anything else. “Because you were forced to, or something.”

 

“It’s just like how I don’t judge Genji for killing off most of your family  _ after _ you broke him.”

 

McCree turns for the exit, leaving behind a breeze, and then, nothing. Now alone in the kitchen, the echoes from the dining area that remain are a senseless jumble to Hanzo’s ears.

 

And Hanzo watches, mouth slack, as McCree disappears down the hall.

 

And Hanzo knits his brow, as he looks down at his coffee and feels the knot in his stomach steal away any remaining appetite.

 

It’s just as he’d expected, then. After being treated so  _ normal _ , this seemed the least strange thing.

 

He takes a sip, just in case coffee could wash down this feeling.

 

Seems like this mug’s going to turn cold, too.


End file.
